Breakfast at Tiffany's
by somethingoftheunknown
Summary: He really wasn't a frog-turned-prince, and she's not the princess she wishes she could be. Dan and Blair finding their lives turning into a non-fairytale story. A series of oneshots inspired by Blair's favorite movie.
1. Fred

You like to think of yourself as Fred.

Fred and his unsociable personality. Fred and his lesbian school teachers stories. Fred and his not-so-full wallet. You imagine yourself living an insignificant life with a failed literary career until a girl like Holly, in her true hurricane-like fashion, sweeps into your life.

The countdown of you falling in love with her starts. It wouldn't really take long for it to happen, and maybe after a few parties, a few trips to _Sing Sing_, and an incident which will involve her saving your life, you tell her. You know very well how she'll respond.

_("Damn fool." She kissed me on the cheek. Then there were four of her, and I fainted dead away.)_

It doesn't really in matter in what context you will fall in love with this modern-day Holly, but you'll love her enough to hate the Sid Arbucks, Rusty Trawlers and other rats and super-rats that will come to her life. You'll love her enough to want to make her stay and wreak havoc in your world. You'll love her enough to write a story about her years later, and the only reason you didn't start earlier is because your version of Hurricane Holly will also leave nothing too pleasant for you.

You like to think of yourself as Fred. (Not Paul Varjak from the movie—because she won't find that damned cat herself.)

On some days, you think of yourself as Joe Bell; always looking for her, but only finding pieces.

Actually, you'll be just like everyone else who found themselves sucked into this wreck of a girl.

Holly Golightly.

You poor sap.


	2. 5th Qualification

It's funny, really, that you feel this way. (How many times has that line been used?) It was a mutual decision, and you've been waiting for this for weeks- months, if you're honest. You've been expecting this to happen ever since you decided to re-ignite the Dan Humphrey-Vanessa Abrams Relationship Train-Wreck Extravaganza.

But you still feel rejected.

To be fair you managed to hold it (it, being you and her) together for 7 months. That would be the time to beat for your next 5 relationships/hook-ups. You wonder what happened to commitment-loving Dan Humphrey.

Yet, you still feel betrayed, used, insignificant,_ unwanted_, and just stupid.

That's a total blow to your ego. (Because having 5 bestsellers warrants you to have an ego.)

You try to reason anyways. _'People like Dan Humphrey are gentlemen who mourn for their loss.'_ You ignore the fact that it's almost been a year since you were Dan Humphrey (hiding behind names such as Darren Hound, Randolph Hall, and I.M. Brooklyn obviously caused a little identity crisis).

So you sit in brooding silence in the darkest part of the room and think about the_ ifs_ and the non-existent _what could have beens_. You buy a brand-new notebook and write about angst and lost loves, maybe even throw in a little 'The Pauper-turn-Prince' story into the mix. Then you stare at the ceiling, squinting enough so the glow-in the dark stars (an 'ode to your favorite childhood book)become more realistic; _second star on the right, and straight on 'til morning_. You contemplate on jumping off the roof of the hotel you're currently staying at, even if at the back of your mind you know you'll never have the guts to do it.

You know that for you, it'll be easy to let go, (easier than the 3rd?/4th? time) the emo period is just a formality, but you also that know that _you_ are incapable of moving on _from_ something.

So you decide to move on _to_ something.

It's harder than it seems. Mostly because it's summer, and the _Serenas_ of the world are probably off, summering in some house in some island in some country during some trip (the kind of trip you won't be able to afford even if you sold your soul to the devil). So you hold on to your grade school/early-NYU/late-grad school sweetheart for a little bit longer.

(It's not like you aren't trying, it's just that no one seems to fit the description. You're not looking for a relationship or anything. Maybe just a muse, and there _are_ qualifications- 6, to be exact.)

So when a non-friend in her designer.. everything reappears in your life (actually, _you_ reappeared in _her_ life, _'Who started a conversation with whom?'_), showing enough potential for her to pass Qualification # 1, you decided to pull out the check-list and consider her your newest candidate.

The fact that your conversations mostly consists of bickering and insults fills out the box besides Qualifications #s 3 and 6 with check marks. By now, 2 is a given, and 4 is obvious.

Even with the quick progress, for some reason you're still holding on to the memory of your ex-girlfriend. (She's really just your ex-girlfriend now- nothing more poetic than that.). You think it's because of that impassable 5th Qualification.

You settle for more talking and accepting and comfort and a little bit of flirting (okay, maybe _a lot_ of flirting, but her immunity to that makes it totally useless. It both irks and relieves you.) You talk to her on a daily basis because if your honest, you have nothing better to do (you can't help but wonder if she does), and for once, talking and feeling actually feels a whole lot better than writing.

You still keep your eyes and options open, though, even if she's talked you out of getting a rebound girl. You're not getting a rebound girl (she _hates_ the sound of that), you're looking for a muse (and _no_ they're not the same). Because if all else fails, you're not going to force yourself- or her, for that matter.

More time passes and your _ex_ is still on your mind (you ignore that fact that you'll only spend one syllable of your time for her now). She's on your mind but it's less than a memory and more of a habit trying to be forgotten (and you've already forgotten more than once or twice). Besides, Blair Waldorf is on your mind more often than her.

Qualification # 5 is still standing, but it doesn't really matter.

You've already moved on.

* * *

><p>She might not have passed the 6-Item Muse Qualification Exam (or the 6-IMQE), but well, you <em>are<em> writing this, so maybe you'll make an exception (for her, just this once).

**6-IMQE Item # 5**  
><strong>Attraction: You have to be a little bit in love with your muse.<strong>

* * *

><p>She's on her way to becoming official anyways. You are falling for her. Like how you've told her.<p>

Good ol' fashion Breakfast at Tiffany's by Truman Capote love.

* * *

><p><em>"I just didn't know you'd been in love with her. Not like that."<em>

_"Sure I loved her. But it wasn't that I wanted to touch her... And I swear it never crossed my mind about Holly. You can love somebody without it being like that . You can keep them a stranger, a stranger who's a friend."_

_Or, the question is apparent, was my out-rage a little the result of being in love with Holly myself? A little. For I was in love with her. Just as I once been in love with my mother's elderly colored cook and a postman who let me follow him on his rounds and a whole family named McKendrick. That category of love generates jealousy, too._

_"Breakfast at Tiffany's" by Truman Capote_


	3. Role Play

**I apologize for the last chapter. It was a actual a personal piece I wrote to help me get over some.. stuff. I edited it to make applicable to Dan and that was my mistake.**

**Anyways, please enjoy.**

* * *

><p>When Dan thinks of Blair, it always starts with a pain. Not because of the hurt she left him with when she disappeared <em>for good<em>; that has dulled down over the years. The pain is actually physical. The memory is hazy, and remembering something that long ago is rather difficult for his old age. A small headache is the likely result.

It always starts with pain, followed with some blur, then more pain. But even if it did hurt, he still tries to remember that one memory that still flickers with life. That's what follows the pain and the blur, and for him, it's always worth it.

* * *

><p>It starts with a persistent tap in his window. He was enjoying a glass of hot chocolate, while staring at the bare notebook in front of him. He's willing his brain for words to appear, but all the he comes up with is some scribbles and doodles. He sighs, maybe he really should give up writing. One best-seller and another Upper East Side fiasco should have been enough to scare him away.<p>

The tapping grew more impatient but he continues to ignore it, for the rain was pouring quite heavily that night.. or midnight or early morning. He wasn't sure how long his staring contest with his notebook has been going on. The tapping then turned to knocking, so he decides to take a peek. He sees a form of black and red figure almost banging against his window; he spilled his drink. He pauses for a few seconds before rushing to open the window.

"Blair?" he asks incredulously. Dan stares as she invites herself in, taking off her seemingly waterproof coat and throwing it carelessly on the floor. Well, at least she wrings her hair outside the window.

"I've got the most terrifying man downstairs." She said while closing the window. "I mean he's sweet when he isn't drunk, but let him start lapping up the vino, and oh God quel beast! If there's one thing I loathe, it's men who bite."

"What the hell are you talking about?" Dan asked in alarm as he looks out the window to maybe get a peek at this terrifying man she was talking about.

"I'm sorry if I frightened you," she continued, ignoring his question, "but when the beast got so tiresome I just went out the window. I think he thinks I'm in the bathroom, not that I give a damn what he thinks, the hell with him, he'll get tired, he'll go to sleep, my God, he should, eight martinis before dinner and enough wine to wash down an elephant."

"What?" Dan looks at her, thoroughly confused, but being the literary buff that he is, he could easily recognize the lines. "Why are you quoting _Breakfast at Tiffany's_?"

"Listen, you can throw me out of you want to." She continued. "I've got a gall barging in on you like this. But that fire escape was so damned icy." She threw a sidelong glance at her coat. "And you looked so cozy. Like my brother Fred."

"What?" He questioned her again, but he has an idea on where this is going. If anything, Blair's the queen of avoidance, and by the looks of what she's doing, she's avoiding something pretty big.

"We used to sleep four in a bed, and he was the only one that ever let me hug him on a cold night. By the way, do you mind if I called you Fred?" She looked at him expectantly and he knows what she's means, _play along_. "I suppose you think I'm very brazen. Or _trés fou_. Or something."

"Not at all," Dan sighed. He decided that playing along would be wise for now since he knows pretty well that Blair is as stubborn as a wall. She looks disappointed, really disappointed, and he sees how she's taking this very seriously. Yes, playing along would be wise.

"Yes, you do. Everybody does. I don't mind. It's useful." She sat down on a wobbly chair across from him and she scrunches up her nose. "How can you bear it? It's a chamber of horrors."

He chuckles because it's something that Blair Waldorf would _really _say.

"Oh, you get used to anything." He said in an amused tone rather than annoyed. He knows that she knows that he knows Breakfast at Tiffany's like the back of his hand. At some point in his pre-Serena life, Truman Capote has been Dan's favorite, and of course he has read about Holiday Golightly a thousand times (she might have even been his dream girl once). It's just another thing they find themselves having in common. They debated over book vs. movie, and of course Blair preferred the movie over the book.

"I don't. I'll never get used to anything. Anybody that does, they might as well be dead." She looked around the room once more, as their script dictates her to. "What do you _do _here all day?"

Dan lifted up his notebook and pen, "Write things."

"I'm going to help you." She smiled as he continues to play along. "I can, too. Think of all the people I know who know people. I'm going to help you because you look like my brother Fred. Only smaller. I haven't seen him since I was fourteen, that's when I left home, and he was already six-feet-two. My other brothers were more your size, runts. It was the peanut butter that made Fred so tall." She continues on with her lines flawlessly, and he guesses that it's a wonderful feeling for her, playing Holly Golightly. "Everybody thought it was dotty, the way he gorged himself on peanut butter; he didn't care about anything in this world except horses and peanut butter. But he wasn't dotty, just sweet and vague and terribly slow; he'd been in the eight grade three years when I ran away. Poor Fred. I wonder if the Army's generous with their peanut butter. Which reminds me, I'm starving."

Dan realized that he doesn't have a bowl of apples or any suitable replacement for him to feed her with. He has a quick dilemma about their lack of props, and he realized that he has a pack of _Skittles_ on his nightstand. He threw it in her direction and she caught it. She eyed it carefully, then shrugged, _good enough_. After opening the pack, she looks at him expectantly. He shakes his head and asked why she left so young. She then proceeded with Holly's gesture for trespassing; stare blankly, rub nose, then change subject. She popped a red Skittle into her mouth.

"Tell me something you've written. The story part."

"That's one of the troubles. They're not the kind of stories _can _tell." Dan thinks of the one story he published, _Inside_. The book has been labeled as a modern-day day classic (he wonders how that works), but it has caused some alienation from some of Dan's friends and family. He's not sure he's ready to open it up and read it as a bedtime story.

"Too dirty?" She asks, still playing her part.

"Maybe I'll let you read one sometime." He continued, a little bit wary.

"Hot chocolate and Skittles go together." She says in all seriousness, no matter how ridiculous that statement was. He tries not to chuckle. "Fix me a drink, darling. Then you can read me yourself."

He did as he was told and went to the kitchen. He went back in with two cups of steaming hot chocolate and hands her one. She closes her eyes and takes a sip, then she pops in a yellow Skittle and he thinks maybe they aren't such a bad combination at all. He grabs the book from his shelf and shows her the cover, _Inside by Anonymous_. He gives her a pointed look, and she gives him a slow nod. He sighs and opens the book. _As a kid, I've always seen the Upper Crust of New York as a rather frightening world, with frightening people. Mainly because it's seems to be too perfect, and being a very skeptical kid, I know that too perfect signals for a horror/psychological thriller show. The most frightening thing is that I'm still captivated by the shine. I've always wanted something unreachable.._

When Dan looks at Blair from time to time, he can see her attempting to look distracted, as the script called, and he gives her props for her acting ability, but he knows that she's hanging onto every word he's saying. Hearing the words he wrote from his mouth gives a rather surreal feeling to all of this. He decides to cut the story short, closing the book right before Darren and Brooke took the first step to the start of their friendship.

"Is that the _end_?" She asks him like how Holly did Fred, but there was an underlining meaning to it, _why did you stop? _He doesn't say anything, it was not his turn to speak, anyways. She looks away from him and sees his clock. "That's not true! It can't be two-thirty!" She suddenly exclaims, surprising him. He sees how she fast-forward the discussion of the book and changed the subject. He sighs and decides to put everything to its place. He placed the cups at the table, and threw the empty skittles pack in the trash. "What is it today?"

"Wednesday." He says as he lies down on the bed.

"_Wednesday_." She stood up. "My God." She sat back down. "It's too gruesome."

He smiles at Blair acting the part, "What's gruesome about Wednesday?"

"Nothing. Except that I can't remember when it's coming." She continues to look panicked for a little while, then turns to look at his eyes. "I'm keeping you awake. Go to sleep."

"Please. I'm interested." He yawns.

"I know you are. That's why I want you to sleep." Dan was starting to consider to actually sleep when she slid herself under the sheets beside him. She pulled the cover up both of them. "Do you mind? I only want to rest a moment. So let's don't say another word. Go to sleep."

Dan watched as she closes her eyes and sleep of to dreamland. He knows what was supposed to happen next, so he decides to end their little game.

"Blair, what are you really doing here?" He asks. He should have thought over that question better because next thing he knows, she's sitting up with alarm on her face.

"Oh for God's sake," she started, grabbing her coat and heading towards the window. "I _hate _snoops."

Dan can only watch as he goes out of the window and down the fire escape.

* * *

><p>He wishes that he liked the movie better so he would've kissed her senseless in the rain. Maybe he did. He doesn't know what happened before and after that. It really is the only memory of Blair he has left.<p>

"Mr. Humphrey, your usual visitor is here." He heard the nurse tell him. The familiar footsteps of his visitor followed, but he doesn't turn around. It doesn't make a difference, anyways. He hasn't been able to see the light of the world for almost five years. The blindness really put a hinder to his writing, but it became easier.

The nurse leaves, and the visitor started doing what she usually did.

"Moon River, wider than a mile. I'm crossing you in style, someday." Her voice fills the room, and Dan goes back to wishing that his life was Breakfast at Tiffany's. He could imagine his twenty-two year old self staring out the window to the streets of where he has lived most of his life.

_Oh Dream Maker, you Heart-breaker. Wherever you're going, I'm going your way._

He looks down and sees Blair, sitting at her windowsill, strumming a miniature guitar.

"Two drifters, off to see the world." Blair sings, as she looks out dreamily to the sky. "There's such a lot of world to see."

_We're after the same._

Blair looks up and smiles, "Hi."

He smiles too, "Hi."

_Rainbows end._

"What're you doing?"

"Writing."

"Good."

_Waiting 'round the bend._

He goes back in and continues typing his story about the girl with a nameless cat.

"My huckleberry friend." Dan is now back in the room of darkness, and he listens as the woman he cannot see finishes the song. "Moon River.. and me."

The visitor turned to leave, as she always did after the song. It was an odd pattern, and words were never exchanged. He listens to the slow steps getting farther away from him.

"Bye Waldorf." He calls out tenderly. There's a hitch in her step, then she continues on walking. Before the door closes he hears the wind whisper something along the lines of _Cabbage Patch_. He chuckles, even if there's a possibility that it was just his imagination.

He then thinks again of young Blair strumming the last notes on her guitar.

_Moon River and me._

* * *

><p><strong>Most of the dialog is from the book, and the Moon River part is from the movie.<strong>

**Note, I don't actually know if Hot chocolate taste good with Skittles. Let me know if you try it, okay?**

**Thanks for reading, please review.**


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